Woosh, right over her head. Lee is unable to detect when she's being flirted with. She just blinks at him, eyes dewy still with cold from the street.
"Sorry?"
She's still not actually sure exactly what it is Michael does. It's all very mysterious to her although he's probably told her many times, and looking at the desks is not enlightening her any.
"My name is Lee," she adds, hopeful, has he told anyone about her? Maybe not, she doesn't know what they talk about, important advertising things, probably, though she doubts Michael's ability to focus on one topic for eight hours at a time. She doesn't offer a last name (she usually doesn't), and 'Lee' itself is barely a name, one syllable, three letters, safely anonymous and unisex. She hasn't moved, she's not sure what to do when men talk to her, hide under a desk?